Austin and Ophelia
Chapter Two
Austin: Paper is dry. It doesn’t smell like normal paper, the aroma is plastic and wood and women. Shove it on the desk and pop a plastic cap. Click, click, click, childproof. Metropolitan cocktail of white and blue simply exquisite, washed down with the Thames best. Dirty glass, finger printed. Pressure in the temples, mind aching.
Quiet comes like the soft beats of a pigeons wings. Lying on back, swimming neck deep in a galaxy of silence. The girl was muted. Odd. Never had I encountered a mute. Not even static. Amazing. Dark eyes, golden sea of hair, feel like Rapunzel. She was not the one locked in the tower. Ceiling is high, good shield. Eardrums are battered. Eyelids close. Mind is racing. Never. How extraordinary? Thin lipped, pink petal cheeks. Traffic of the mind. English Rose. Beautiful. Long necked, wild swan…
Quiet comes like the soft beats of a pigeons wings. Lying on back, swimming neck deep in a galaxy of silence. The girl was muted. Odd. Never had I encountered a mute. Not even static. Amazing. Dark eyes, golden sea of hair, feel like Rapunzel. She was not the one locked in the tower. Ceiling is high, good shield. Eardrums are battered. Eyelids close. Mind is racing. Never. How extraordinary? Thin lipped, pink petal cheeks. Traffic of the mind. English Rose. Beautiful. Long necked, wild swan…